


The only sunshine I could ever want

by tatch



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angtsy fluff, M/M, Reaper76 - Freeform, Reaper76 Week, TWO IDIOTS, day 5 - over the airwaves (voice/music), r76, really there isn't much else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9390383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatch/pseuds/tatch
Summary: I'm contributing to part of the R76 weekPrompt was: Over the Airwaves (Voice/Music)





	

 

Reaper follows the soldier, keeping to shadows. The man is old, white hair and faded scars but there’s something powerful in his stride when he walks. Despite the age, he seems fit, a worthy opponent. The perspective has him grinning under the bone white mask he wears, a sharp predatory flash of teeth, jagged and violent. The soldier hums as he walks, unaware of his presence. 

The tune is… familiar. 

Reaper moves in closer, his brows now furrowed, his body tight with concentration. He’s heard this tune before but the sound is too faint and stops far too soon to bring back any memories. He decides to wait before coming down on his prey. He needs to know more than he needs to kill the old soldier. The man is careful but somewhat relaxed as he clings to the sides and the shadows of the streets, remaining hidden most of the time. Whoever trained him was good. Reaper doesn’t lose him but he knows anyone other than himself would have lost track at least three times by now. He clenches and unclenches his fist, something like fury dancing in his veins, a need to just tackle the soldier and pull the answers he wants out of him. He remains hidden. 

The soldier seems tense, his instinct probably telling him that something isn’t quite right. He moves with more purpose now and after a sharp turn, ducks into a trash-filled alley. By the time Reaper reaches it, the soldier is gone. Reaper’s eyes narrow, glaring at the planks and crates littering the dead end. He is very still, trying to hear a sound that isn’t coming. He sighs and crouches, looking at the strewn around trash for clues, a trail, something, anything but there’s nothing. 

 

Suddenly the tune is back, just as soft as before. Three, four notes maybe, so so familiar and then it’s gone again. Reaper turns his head in that direction and with the tip of a claw, lifts one of the larger planks, just enough to see under it. He almost chuckles at the hole he can see underneath. A man-sized hole that leads directly inside the soldier’s derelict safehouse, easy to use and easy to hide. He almost purrs. Oh, this one is good, really good. 

He wraiths inside, carefully, still sticking to the shadows, but the soldier has already moved on, no longer in the abandoned hall Reaper just came into. He lets his body shape itself again and listens some more. There’s some sound coming from the stairs, the soft shft-shft of someone going up discreetly. Reaper sticks to his wraith forms as he follows, feeling like a sailor being lured by a siren’s song. There’s dread in his gut but curiosity is getting the better of him. 

The old house is a mess, long since abandoned, most of the rooms empty or filled with trash. The only ones who might still be coming here (except for the wraith and his prey) are drunks and hobos. Maybe a few addicts too, he adds into his mind, as he spots a couple of used syringes. It’s as good a hiding place as any other. The soldier comes into sight after Reaper has gone up the stairs, his back and a calve visible before he enters one of the rooms, almost closing the door behind him, a golden line of light the only thing that betrays his presence. 

 

Reaper stays still, considering. He could just blow the place up, now that he knows where the old man’s safehouse is, but. But, his need to know is too strong and might just have lead him to his doom. Ah, hell. It’s not like he really cares anyway. He’s already dead, after all. He inches closer, careful of traps or animals that would signal his presence. 

The soldier starts humming eventually and Reaper throws all caution to the wind. Okay, maybe not all caution, as he doesn’t jump into the room and punch the answers he wants out of the old soldier. No, but he stills moves much faster than he normally would have, not checking for traps or anything else, the thin ray of light his only goal. The hum becomes clearer and Reaper risks a look inside the room. The soldier has left his rifle on the table and is taking cans out of a cupboard. He’s preparing some food, mindlessly humming as he does so. The same notes over and over again. Enough to rasp at the back of Reaper’s mind but not enough for him to recognize the song. For fuck’s sake, can’t that guy hum a song properly, or better, just sing it already, so that Reaper can finally kill him and be on his merry way? The smell that comes from the room is that of canned beans and the soldier sits at the table, ready to eat, the hum becoming clearer and turning into words here and there. About time.

  
_  
“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping _

_ I dreamt I held you in my arms”  _

Reaper stills, his breath short. He closes his eyes tightly. He used to sing that song to Jack in-between missions during the Crisis, and later on, when they both managed to be on the same base at the same time. He used to sing that song when Jack couldn’t sleep or to put him back to sleep after a nightmare.

 

_ “When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken _

_ So I hung my head, and I cried” _

The soldier’s rough voice cracks somewhere around that bit and Reaper feels compelled to finish the song, his long-dead heart clenching in his chest.

 

_ “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine _

_ You make me happy when skies are grey” _

He hears the chair clatter, the soldier grabbing his rifle with a zip and a clack, expecting an attack now, Reaper’s stealth blown away by his own stupidity. He lets out a sigh and finishes, before getting in that room, where only pain awaits.

 

_ “You never know, dear, how much I love you _

_ Please don't take my sunshine away” _

His own voice is soft and tired as he readies himself to get up.

 

“Gabe?” 

Reaper’s eyes snap and he all but tears the door from its hinges. The soldier’s face is wrinkled, old, deep scars, blind eyes that don’t quite look at him. The hairline is receding and the voice is rough, gruff, unused, but. But it’s. Him. 

“Jackie, mi sol.”

 

How he missed that smile.

 


End file.
